


what little time we have left

by aryasreys



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 06:34:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18867694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aryasreys/pseuds/aryasreys





	what little time we have left

She had not expected it to be so  _ good _ . Arya had heard several different accounts of what a woman’s first time would be like, some agonizing details, yet Arya couldn’t seem to think a little pain would stop her.

She knew pain. In only the worst ways possible. The sharp pinch of a blade or the quick strike of a hand were sensations common to her. 

Yet she did not know there was such a thing as delicious pain. The type that overwhelmed and made one gasp from excruciating pleasure. Truthfully, if she ever imagined herself doing this it would be with Gendry. Those thoughts did not go away when she found him alive and in her home, even after all those years. 

So as she climbed atop him and made herself memorize every detail of his face, Arya took notice of his look of complete wonder at her. Even afterwards, as she laid at his side, she still could feel his eyes on her. 

“Arya,” he began, shifting to his side.

“If whatever you’re going to say is influenced by the fact that we might die soon, then I don’t want to hear it,” she settled further into the makeshift bed, still unable to meet his gaze.

“I don’t care.”

Now she looked at him.

He was as breathless as her, but underneath that, she saw the grim determination of a man waiting for his death.

She sat up now, not caring that the blankets rested on her lap now. He had already seen her, why should it matter now? Arya steadied herself before finally nodding to him.

“I’m sorry for leaving you.”

There. It was the one topic she wanted to avoid, and still he managed to bring back the worst memories she shared of him. She had long since gotten over the rejection, yet he still finds a way to open that wound up without even trying to hurt her. 

“Yes, well, we can’t really go back now, can we? What’s done is done.” She felt his hand, his secure and strong hand, cup her shoulder with a tenderness that she hasn’t felt for years. 

“I left you and that remains one of my two biggest regrets,” he continued, his thumb slightly rubbing against her collarbone. 

“One of two?” Arya raised an eyebrow. 

At this, Gendry smiled to himself. “Yes, well-”

“What’s the other one?”

His blue eyes turned to her, as if making sure she heard him well. “Not kissing you the moment I saw you here.”

She tore her eyes away. She could feel his gaze burning on her. Arya, much to her dismay, felt her face redden because of it, and she hated it. She hated how much he still affected her now. Arya hated how she still felt the sting of his rejection all those years ago.

“What is it?” He asked her.

She looked back at him now, with unwanted tears in her eyes. “You were as important to me as my family. Far as I could tell, you were the only person I had left in the world who I could trust.” 

He blinked. “You have your family now.” 

She laughed, harsher than she  intended. “And so do you I suppose. You are Robert’s Baratheon only living heir. You’d have a castle and bannermen, and-”

“A lady?” Gendry smirked.

Arya sighed. “People willing to fight and die for you.”

“Only because of my blood.”

She stopped at that. Was her blood the reason why cared so much for Sansa, Jon, and Bran? Was it because they shared the same blood that she felt this desire to rip her own heart of her chest if they required it? She thought of Hot Pie and Gendry and their small, pieced-together family they had formed. She would have done the same for them as well. 

It wasn’t blood that made her devoted to them. 

“Sure, the fact that you are a son of Robert Baratheon doesn’t hurt, but that’s not what makes people family. You were my family,” she blurted out, immediately regretting the admission. “And that was before I even knew about who your father is. I didn’t care then and I don’t care now.”

He was about to open his mouth to reply, but she fiercely shook her head. She wanted him to listen to this.

My point is,” she laid back down, covering herself, “you were the last person I had left.”

He fell silent. “Arya-”

“What?” 

“If we make it out of this alive--”

“Don’t. I can’t think beyond tonight. Don’t give me hope.”

His stormy blue eyes glazed over, as if he was imagining something instead of her right now. “I’ll follow you anywhere, if you’d have me.”

Her words caught in her throat, aching to come up. Instead, she felt a stupid smile stretch out over her lips. She kissed him then, it was unlike the ones they had shared a few minutes earlier. Before, a frenzy washed over her, a burning need to consume every single second she had left with him, but now…

Now she wanted to take her time.

Now, it was a soft and slow kiss. A kiss that confirmed to her that he cared as much as she did. A kiss that made Arya understand why Sansa loved those songs of knights and lovely maidens. One that warmed her entire chest and filled her with hope. His hands fumbled through her hair, no doubt ruining the intricate bun that she had made, but Arya could not have cared less about the state of her hair. His fingers dragged through her scalp, oddly making her entire body keen into his touch. How long could they stay in this moment? How much longer could they live in between these kisses and delicate yet strong touches? 

_ Fuck it. _

She climbed unto him as she did before, yet she rested her forehead on him, chest heaving from the lack of air. His breath came out deliciously slow against her open mouth, and Arya allowed herself to breathe as well. 

“Gendry,” she murmured to him. 

His hand was sliding down her back as she settled down onto his lap. “Arya-”

Her mouth was on him again, cutting him off. When she came up for air, her fingers delicately traced his jaw. “Live.” She whispered to him. His features softened at this, but Arya couldn’t bear to listen what he would say to this. Instead, her hand reached in between their legs and pulled his length out. 

Arya couldn’t say that she didn’t enjoy watching him as her hands worked his cock. His head would tilt back, ever so slightly, his breath caught in between his lips. A small tremor would pass through his shoulders, and Arya never felt as powerful as she did right then. This ability she had over him. To make him completely unravel under her touch.

It was an intoxicating experience.

Drunk on this newfound power, she was considering finishing him off with just her hand until Gendry willed himself to look her in the eye. Arya slowly lowered herself onto him, making sure to memorize the way his breath hitched in his throat. He was more sure of himself now, his firm grip on her hips proved that to her. A part of her didn’t want to give up control of this, but another part relished in the fact that he was touching her like  _ that _ . Like she wasn’t fragile. His grip on her was harsh, but not in the way that made her want to turn away. 

His hips meant hers in a clash of desire, and she was glad to see that he was equally as lost in this moment as she was. Her hands rested on both sides of his head, but her mouth met his in a frenzy. 

She caught his bottom lip with her teeth, biting slighly at the open seam of his mouth. And he  _ moaned _ into her mouth.

Yes, Arya could get used to that. 

The feeling of him, the fullness, the strength that this gave her. Tiring yet emboldening her to continue. Suddenly, Gendry’s grip on her sides softened and he was pulling her off him.

“Lay down,” he commanded.

Arya huffed, watching his chest rise and fall. Why would he--

“Arya,” Gendry slipped out from under her and was now looming over her. She quirked an eyebrow at him.

She almost wanted to push him down again, but a part of her wanted to lie down and let him do the work. She laid down, watching him dip down to press a kiss to the nape of her neck. To her collarbone. To the space between her breasts. His lips traveled down her stomach, leaving soft marks of adoration across her skin. 

Before Arya knew it, his cerulean eyes were fixated on her, looking up from between her legs. 

Gods, she wanted to burn this image in her mind. As if he could hear her, Arya felt his lips curve into a smile against her. 

She was about to ask him about it when his mouth was suddenly on her.

“Arya,” he spoke, his breath hot on her skin. Arya felt her entire body squirm under this new sensation, yet she couldn’t bring herself to still herself. That was, until his free hand encircled her thigh, holding her in place. “Look at me.”

Arya ripped her gaze away from the ceiling, to him.

His lips hovered over her. Hovered over the place where she needed him the most. It was probably five seconds at most. Five seconds of heavy silence between them. Five seconds of Arya catching her breath while Gendry just looked up in complete awe at the woman above him. Five seconds until he shot her a smirk and  _ finally _ dipped his head to meet her sex. 

“Fuck,” she gritted through her teeth. Gendry was merciless. Every time she thought she would be granted a reprieve, he would only delve further with much more fervor. Still, his eyes never left her. 

And her eyes never left him.

His mouth was slick on her cunt, yet it didn’t stop him from lapping it all up. No gentleness, no delicateness. Those pretenses were dropped now. He knew what she wanted and what she was. She felt the pressure building once more. 

“For fuck’s sake,” she managed to get out between breaths, “fuck me already.”

Gendry eyes peered into hers. As soon as his mouth left her, she regretted it, but it didn’t prepare Arya for the pleasure of him inside her. 

His hips met hers in earnest, yet Arya couldn’t find it in herself to lie down as he fucked her. 

_ That wasn’t her. _

Her hand went out to his chest, stopping him from moving further. Gendry’s look of confusion was soon replaced with understanding as she forcefully shoved him down onto his back. Arya took note of the small grunt that escaped Gendry as she settled down unto him. Through their combined moans and bated breaths, they quickly found their rhythm. They climbed and climbed and climbed until they could go no higher, until they were both falling over the cliff of their shared pleasure. 

When they finally broke apart, breathless and grinning, Arya found her voice. “I forgive you,” she whispered to him. “It still hurts, and in a way, I do not think the pain of it all will ever leave me, but I forgive you.”

Gendry looked up at her then. He lovingly brushed a strand of misplaced hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to forgive me, you just have to live beyond tonight.”

"You’ve never seen me fight,” she finally collapsed next to him, chest heaving from the events of the night.

He laughed then, an unexpected and warm one that made Arya dangerously close to smiling. “No, but if today has taught me anything, it is to not get in the way of Arya Stark.”   
  
She smiled wholeheartedly at that. “My new weapon should help even the odds, I suppose.”

“Glad I could help,” he said a little too eager.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she rolled her eyes, turning back to her side. 

“As you command, m’lady,” he murmured to her, gently pulling his cloak over her shoulder. She felt his warm lips press against the side of her shoulder before he pulled back.

“Gendry?” She said.

He hummed in reply. 

“I wanted it to be you,” she was grateful she couldn’t see his face right now. “I’m glad it was you.” 

Suddenly, his arm was around her once more and he pulled her to him. 

“Me too.” 

She had wanted to say more to him. She had wanted to tell him what happened to her in Braavos. She had wanted to tell him what happened in the years they were apart. She had wanted to tell him  _ everything _ . 

Still, she could not form the words to tell him. Where would she even begin? How would she even begin?

Arya tore herself away from these thoughts. It did would not help her in the battle to come. For now, she would store these thoughts away for a later time.

And as he slipped silently into the sweet comfort of sleep, Arya couldn’t help but feel her stomach turn at the thought of getting up. Any moment now, that wretched horn would blast and they would both be off to do their part. And if by some cruel twist of fate, they were torn apart once more, Arya would have to move forward as she always has. 

As she always will.


End file.
